Ozzie Smith knew he'd have to sneak in early if he really wanted to spend some time in the museum by himself. Away from fans, away from reporters, away from the fans, away from the reporters, away from everyone who wanted to know what exactly his plans were to get his Kingoonya Goonyees back where they belonged, in first place. It'd been three seasons now, three long, tough seasons of losing, and losing some more.

33-27 in Season Twelve, a tie for second place. Not bad in most places. In Kingoonya, not good enough.
25-35 in Season Thirteen. A disaster, the world splitting open and consuming Goon Coliseum would be preferable to this, a third place finish. Goonyee fans were in shock.
30-30 in Season Fourteen, and another third place finish. Maybe the .500 record was a sign that the worst is over now. We'll get back to normal, get back to winning, this season.

Well, all he could do was all he could do. Today's a day to forget about all that, to celebrate. Today was Induction Day, and here he was, in this strange museum they'd named The Chronicle Keep, where the Chronicle of Honor inductees would see their names recorded in The Book.

What an odd place this new museum was, with an odd name, too. Ozzie had looked it up. As a noun, "keep" had two meanings: the center of a castle, the most fortified and protected place; or, a jail. Looking at the decor and lighting, Ozzie wasn't sure which meaning was intended.

And the location selected was puzzling, too. Not in some neutral site, perhaps nestled among pristine hills and beautiful, sparkling lakes. No, the Chronicle Keep was located practically in the shadow of The Grassy Knoll, home to the ne'er do well Grassy Skirts. In fourteen ABL seasons, only Grassy and Urapunga, among the still-existant original franchise teams, had never won their division title.

Ozzie felt a chill in this place. It was too dark, too - haunted. Oh, the displays were what you'd expect. The 18-inning game in which Cooktown defeated Stawell to clinch the first East title - balls, scorecard, bats, and so on. Barry Bonds' bat that he'd used to drive home Eddie Murray to win Game Seven of the Season Four Kangaroo Cup. Luis Salazar's bat, used to drive home the winning run in Game Six of the Season Seven Cup, giving Ozzie's own Kingoonya club their third straight ABL title. More recently, the ball from Tony Gwynn's 1000th hit.

There were displays of the greats, Greg Maddux and his three straight Sisk Awards, Jeff Bagwell and his amazing triple crown in Season Eleven. There was a display of the expansion experiment, which aimed for levity, but just came off as depressing. Those teams never had a chance, and watching ballplayers, good ballplayers sometimes, trapped on those losing teams just wasn't as much fun as everyone had hoped.

One room Ozzie appreciated was the Room of All-Time Leaders. On these walls were the all-time leader boards for hits, home runs, wins, strikeouts, and dozens of other stats. Maddux led almost all the pitching categories, of course. There was Gwynn's lovely all-time hit total, the only player in 4 figures on the board. Ozzie found himself among the stolen base leaders, and wondered how long he'd stay there. It would be fascinating to be in here on Game Day, watch the totals jump. But of course Ozzie had other business. He was, after all, still manager of the Kingoonya Goonyees. Maybe it was that, and not the queerness of The Chronicle Keep, that was getting him down.

Then Ozzie came to the display of Doc Crandall. Not much on his death, thankfully, but what wasn't said spoke loudly. Yes, that was a bloody jersey in there, almost hidden from view, the black number nine ripped into a ragged 3. Ozzie studied Doc's face. He'd almost forgotten what it looked like. Bright eyes, hopefulness, an expression that seemed to say "whatever happens is going to happen." Or maybe Ozzie was reading too much in. Had that become Ozzie's attitude? Was that why his team couldn't win? Or did he need to care less?

And then he was in the room. The room where the names would be recorded. The room was a long, dark hall. The walls all around were black, blacker than black. It was almost as if there were no walls at all, but just windows into absolute nothingness. And at the end of the room, on a clear pedastal, was The Book. Later that day, his name would become the first name listed in that book. No, not the first name. The first player. His name would, for all time, follow the name of the Chronicle of Honor's first inductee, deceased manager Doc Crandall.

Ozzie went off to work on his speech. It wouldn't be long now.